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Picking up the Pieces
Night's Edge Monastary: Dining Hall ---- ::The eunuchs of Nights Edge Monastery long ago gathered in this arched chamber in mass for three meals each day. In the morning, they ate a meal called Suns Grace. When the sun reached its apex at noon, they came together for Days Fullness And as the sun descended toward the west each evening, they made their way up the shadow Watch Walkway to the dining hall for the meal knows as Shadows Fending. ::The spacious hall was originally designed to hold more than a dozen tables capable of seating more than one hundred eunuchs, the abbot and his staff. Designed in shades of dark and light, the walls of white sun clay brick lead up to dark shardwood rafters in the shadowy recesses of the arched ceiling, with a polished-smooth, rich wooden floor worn with the passage of time and heavy use. The room's acoustics are surprisingly soft, the worn floor doing a great deal to limit the noise when full with those who call the manor home. ::Along the back wall is the large fireplace and the room's banked ovens,built into the brick of the wall itself, with freestanding stoves and a large steel spit for roasting meats. A small, heavy biinwood door leads out to the narrow armory and on to the salle in the southwestern corner, while another larger and braced door leads off into the courtyard. On the north wall, an arched embrasure leads off into the manor's guest quarters, while to the east, a wide and heavy archway leads on to the peace of the chapel. ---- A tiny 'click' betrays the first signs of movement to have come from the guest chambers since a wet, muddied Rowena fled into them last night. The door opens part way with a dull creak then pauses as though the woman inside is having serious second thoughts about emerging quite yet. "You are fine, cousin," Celeste offers and reaches up to touch Karell's arm lightly. "I should lock the door again soon and return to my bed in Northreach." She glances over at the presence of another joining their motley group. Kael moves past them all, ducking into the nearest door - the Chapel. He leaves it open behind himself, however - a watcher woudl see him going on down the aisle, purposefully moving for the courtyard door there. "W-we should all return to Northreach s-soon, those of us who are going, m-my lady," Meian offers a little flatly, her head bowed, where she just washes away with small deft hands. "Once we've... d-done what we can, I suppose..." "As you will." Karell nods, reaching a hand out for Celeste's arm before holding it in front of him. He decides against doing Celeste the favour of smearing sticky wine on her arm and holds his hand by his sides. A stare at Meian is interrupted by the guest. Taking in a few forceful breaths, Rowena fans lightly at her eyes and wills her expression straight and stoic once more. If he DID come back, it wouldn't be to here. Thusly... With a rigidly held head, Rowena paces a few steps out the door, pivots on heel, and closes it behind her. She's dressed again in her silk gown which still bears dampness from the prior night's ride. Over her shoulder is the backpack of the watch. The leather bag that bore the green dress is nowhere in sight on her person. Celeste rises quickly to her feet at finding the matriarch of her home. Luckily, not spilling the wine to the table but down her dress instead. "Your grace," she cries, not seeming to notice the new accident. "I... I am sorry for last evening." Meian hears the sound of yet more spilled wine with the careful awareness of a long-time servant, and seems to know exactly what it entails- a sigh escaping her helplessly, she leaves her washing to snatch up a few more clothes and survey the room, looking for the source of it. Then she actually notes Rowena, blinking with delayed reaction, and dips into a hasty, deep curtsey. Karell Mikin bows deeply to Rowena, and if it wasn't such a sombre occasion he might allow a smile at Celeste's accident. No. Not the right time. "Duchess." he says softly. Standing still with her face inches from the closed door, Rowena fingers the latch, contemplating its usage. "I know." Comes a hollow reply, followed by a glance over her shoulder so that she may study the others present. She, too, seems ignorant of the wine spill. "What's done is done. There's no sense in dwelling." Says she who spent the entirety of the night's remainder in rib-racking tears and the following morning and afternoon recovering from the cry. Sniffing indignantly, she releases her cling to the door latch and meanders back around towards the small gathering. "Meian." She states, nodding her head. "My apologies for the dress's state. Perhaps the seamstress can reuse part of the fabric in her next commissioning. Whatever it is you choose...I've left it there." A shrug of her head is aimed at the door behind her. To Karell, she offers a similar nod. "Hello, cousin." "It was not our intention... by the Light, is there anything that I can do to... to fix it?" Celeste offers in feeble whisper. She looks to Meian and then karell before approaching a step closer to the duchess. Meian swallows slightly, staring down at the floor. "Y-you don't ever have to apologize t-to me for a-anything, Your Grace," the girl whispers in a very abashed voice, her eyes closing tightly. "I'm r-really sorry, if I h-had known, if any of us w-would have known he'd be *so* angry..." Karell Mikin remains rather pallid and quiet. This scene seems to be making him as uncomfortable as any encounter with the shadow. "I'm afraid that more interference will only...well." Shrugging, Rowena blindly fishes for something in an outer pouch of her backpack. "In all honesty, last night was a breeze in comparison to former maelstrom gusts. Unfortunately, it was for the first time directed at me, is all. Really, I'll handle it." The weakened sigh of that last sentence would certainly not be convincing enough to any Tribunal judge. What is solid, is the jingling of coins as she procures a small purse of them and offers it out to Meian. "My word," She says quietly, gaze firm. "600 imperials. I am terrible at estimating the value of things, however, so if that is not enough to cover the price of the gown, then you have my regrets. Please take it." Karell, the sole individual of the room spared from last night's furies, is relatively ignored for now, as in order to remain composed, Rowena must focus on one face at a time. "It was not our intent to bring such storms to your door, your grace." Celeste brushes a hand nervously through her hair and looks back to the floor. "We shall return to Northreach and trouble you no more, your grace. I... should we not at least apologize for our insult?" Meian opens her mouth to protest, but after a moment of useless silence simply closes it, takes the pouch and bows her head very deeply. "I thank you, Your G-grace," she murmurs in a voice wooden except for a note of helpless, hapless apology. "I d-do." Karell for the most part seems happy enough to be ignored, or at least contentable so. He keeps his hands together at his front, head bowed slightly. Unlike Celeste, he takes a step back. "If it would help you sleep more soundly, yes," Rowena snorts quietly to Celeste, eyes cast downward. "But do not be surprised if it falls on deaf ears." To Meian, she smiles faintly once, an unspoken understanding, then turns to speak again to Celeste. "Take the rings to market and sell them. I'm sure they'll fetch a fine price." To Karell, well, there's an awkward lapse of silence with some staring involved. She hadn't expected to have many witnesses in this. The pack shifts uncomfortably on her shoulder but she fixes it not. "Try the goose. It smelled delicious." "I will have Vhramis find a use for them," Celeste offers in a softer tone. Jade combs falling from her hair to rest barely in the MIkin's palm. "Cousin, I'm truly sorry. Should I escort you back to the Keep?" Silence still from Meian, the pouch held awkwardly in both hands with her head deeply bowed over it. She shifts her weight fluidly from foot to foot without truly moving anywhere, and keeps her eyes averted from the rest of the room. Karell Mikin nods back to Rowena with a blank expression, "Yes, your grace." he says simply. Rowena shakes her head decisively. "I'd rather ride alone, thank you. Easier bait for a dragon, should he choose to bite. But I'll be safe." Sensing Meian's discomfort, she spares the girl a final glance. "Pass my regards to Master Firelight, please. Send word, the lot of you, when you reach Northreach so I know you've had a safe journey." And to Karell: "As for the wine, I cannot say." A wryly offered wink is given to that and she takes the first few leaden steps away towards the courtyard. Celeste lowers into a deep bow, keeping her eyes averted. "As you wish, your grace," she states softly. "Light ride with you and soothe." The noblewoman slowly rises and retreats back a few paces. Karell Mikin bows to Rowena as she exits, "Yes." he concurs with Celeste, "Be well." "I'll pass your r-regards, Your Grace, promise," Meian swears almost a little too fiercely, nodding her fervent agreement. She dips into a deep curtsey as Rowena goes, her head bowed and her entire frame remaining bent. Taking her leave of this place with a great deal less vigor but much more fear than which she came to it, Rowena keeps her head held high all the same and walks with prideful step. It had better not be raining, she decided, or else she and the skies were going to war. Night's Edge Monastary: Approach ---- ::Eight centuries ago, The Church of True Light sent its carpenters and architects into the wilderness southeast of the Old City, now known as the Shadow District, to build a monastic facility for the scholarly eunuchs of the church to ponder their faith and expand the influence of the church to new frontiers. Thammon Greengrass, a carpenter descended from servants indentured to House Lomasa, designed and supervised construction of the Nights Edge Monastery. ::A five-foot-high outwall of sun clay bricks surrounds the acreage of the grounds. At the heart of it all is a roughly rectangular monastery building that in the past several decades has been acquired by House Mikin with the blessing of Church patrons and refurbished as a manor home. After it fell into disrepair after being abandoned in early 625 ATA, it was reclaimed and restored by Celeste Mikin following the Expedition of 627 ATA. ::The refurbished monastery features a spacious courtyard, visible through a large archway of rounded sun clay bricks to the north. Over the years the manor home has taken on a horseshoe appearance surrounding a central garden courtyard. It is a temperate night. The slightest breeze stirs over the land infrequently. A torrential downpour of rain soaks the land relentlessly. The following of the six moons are visible in the sky: Stormwatcher (green/waning), Torch II (gray/waning). ---- There are no guards at the stables, no men at the gate-house. The area is dark, as Night's Edge prepares to rest again - Yet, there is a shape taking shelter under the gate-arch regardless, a greying freelander-mage with a lost expression, watching the house with an air of patience. And....sure enough. The relentless hisssssssssssssssss of pelting rain reaches Rowena's ears long before she' immersed in it, trudging with a 'given up' sort of sigh. Fine. Clouds rule. Umbrus has been brought out and waiting and by the looks of his bared teeth and flattened ears, he isn't having the time of his life, either. "I'm sorry, old friend," She whispers to the horse as she approaches and slings her pack around from her back to her front. "Looks like it's just you and I again." There. That's... that's quarry, of a sort. Heedless... or uncaring.. of the rain, the mage moves in the direction of the stables, padding on those old, soft boots and, admittedly, staying well-clear of the horse. When he speaks, it is strangely hesitant - not stuttering, but rather as though the words come a long way before the leave him, somehow working to exist and taking concentration to find, slow and heavy. Worried.. and very simple. ".... m'... m' s.. sorry." Bleak, that, the young man doesn't look up at the Duchess, his eyes cast down and left, his hands worrying in front of him. The blessing that came with rain is that it excelled in masking tears. Once assaulted by this safeguard, Rowena lets them fall as freely as they wish, the purer rain washing away their bitter taste. Umbrus, both blessed and cursed by his animal instincts, shifts uneasily in the presence of sensed discomfort and panic that surrounds his mistress' aura. The heavy rustling of saddle bags and jingling of iron-wrought clasps subsides in the wake of Kael's voice as the unsteady hands that manipulate them freeze in their task. The rain speaks volumes between them, and for that, Rowena does not turn around. "I know. And I am sorry that I could not disuade you," Rowena replies, even-toned while clenching her throat to keep away the squeaks. "It is best not to meddle in the affairs of Princes, Master Firelight. But I know your heart was in the right place." "...j.. jus' w... wanted t' g.. give ye both... " It trails off, the young man's throat working, and he shakes his head. "I j.. jus' d.. destroy..." Helplessly, Kael takes a step back - "Y'... y' both gave m' s... so much. An'... An' m' sorry." Rowena goes to mount near the stables - the young mage a few paces away, clear of the horse, doing his best to offer what he can, though words seem to be failing him. There's a long pause as Rowena slowly resumes securing her belongings to the horse. Tug. Buckle. Jerk. Tie. A lengthy process, but at last she's finished and rests a hand against the horse's glistening neck, the water causing the ebony coast to gleam all the more brightly. "It's all right, Kael," She utters, throat facing the same difficulties as his. "In the passing of time, worse cataclysms have happened than the one that passed last night. Trust me." Smirking at her own words, she grabs firm hold of the horse's shoulder and shoves off the sodden ground with tired strain. There's a moment of faltering in her balance, but the duchess does land her mounting safely and settles best she can into the saddle amidst a tangle of wet skirts. This was going to be hazardous for certain. Where was a prince in shining armor when needed? Oh, that's right. He'd been upset and driven away. "... b.. but n.. none I c... caused." The young man looks up to her, finally - his hair hanging in forgotten strings around his face. Perhaps there is something more to say, something else beyond, "I h... hurt ye. N... n' him. Wi... ne'er be..." And that is left with a frustrated sound, oddly like a low, whimpering growl - a flicker of something red and flaming in those eyes for just the briefest of moments. Words. Fleeting things they are - and they have left him behind, it seems. Umbrus snorts and stomps uneasily, keeping an animal's eye over the thing that speaks to his rider. "I forgive you, Kael," the words fall firmly and with authority, but not one built by power and rage, simply assurance and strength. "And that is all that need be said. Light keep." Turning her mount with a lifting of the reins, Rowena bows her head to the storm. A race of nature's elements it would be. In the next gust of wind, the gray green eyes of the moons reflect in the gray green eyes of the woman and she lunges forward with her horse, out into the darkness. Onward to home. Wherever it is that may now be. ---- ''Return to Season 6 (2007) Category:Logs